here," said the skipper.

Miss Pilbeam agreed with him, and began to laugh--to laugh so heartily
that he was fain at last to draw his chair close to hers and pat her
somewhat anxiously on the back. The treatment sobered her at once, and
she drew apart and eyed him coldly.

"I was afraid you would lose your breath," explained the skipper,
awkwardly. "You are not angry, are you?"

He was so genuinely relieved when she said, "No," that Miss Pilbeam,
despite her father's wrongs, began to soften a little. The upsetter of
policemen was certainly good-looking; and his manner towards her so
nicely balanced between boldness and timidity that a slight feeling of
sadness at his lack of moral character began to assail her.

"Suppose you are caught after all?" she said, presently. "You will go to
prison."

The skipper shrugged his shoulders. "I don't suppose I shall be," he
replied.

"Aren't you sorry?" persisted Miss Pilbeam, in a vibrant voice.

"Certainly not," said the skipper. "Why, I shouldn't have seen you if I
hadn't done it."

Miss Pilbeam looked at the clock and pondered. It wanted but five
minutes to nine. Five minutes in which to make up a mind that was in a
state of strong unrest.